


Fucking Festivities

by breatheforeverypart



Series: Watson the Service Dog and his Partner-in-health, Bucky Barnes [7]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: Fireworks, Gen, Memorial Day is challenging, PTSD Triggers, War Veteran Bucky Barnes, War Veteran Sam Wilson, War Veteran Steve Rogers, not looking forward to tomorrow, rarely do people understand what triggers fireworks are to everyone who experiences PTSD or C-PTSD, the fireworks have begun as I type this, this is a cathartic story based on my own experiences
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:35:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24363658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breatheforeverypart/pseuds/breatheforeverypart
Summary: Memorial Day marks the beginning of a months long season full of illegal and legal firework and sparkler use.  The use of these celebratory fireworks, can be hell for veterans and those with PTSD.  This is a story of how Watson the Service Dog navigates Memorial Day weekend in the time of quarantine.
Relationships: Avengers as family - Relationship, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson
Series: Watson the Service Dog and his Partner-in-health, Bucky Barnes [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1758628
Comments: 7
Kudos: 38





	Fucking Festivities

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PhoenixSys20](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhoenixSys20/gifts).



> For those with PTSD, C-PTSD, sensory issues and are otherwise struggling during this pandemic please stay safe this weekend. Let me know if this story resonates with you. 
> 
> Special thanks to PhoenixSys20 who is always there for conversations, advice, feedback and countless other things. You are a fantastic friend.

A platter of watermelon landed on the table. “Man, I can’t believe we got the last one.” Wilson selected a prime wedge and grinned. 

Bucky snorted. This most recent outing exhausted Watson. The dog snored at his feet, snoozing on the cool hardwood. “I don’t know what you expected dude. This pandemic is making shopping hell.” 

“True. But at least we managed to get enough stuff for the picnic.” 

“Picnic?” Steve asked, finally taking his nose out of his book. “We can’t. Self-isolating and all.” 

Sam rolled his eyes. “We’re video-chatting Barton, Natasha and the kids later remember?” 

“Hmm.” He answered distractedly, already reading again. 

Bucky swallowed, his mouth dry as he realized the reason for the celebration. “Already?” He asked. Quarantine was really fucking with this already challenging understanding of time. Months had flown by and now it was Memorial Day. 

“Yeah.” Wilson sighed, dropping the melon rind on a plate with sticky fingers. 

“Shit.” 

“Don’t worry. No fireworks this year.” There was hard edge present in Wilson’s voice. “Tony and I had a long discussion.”

Bucky nodded, semi-aware of Watson’s nose against his knee. “Lap up Wats.” The command communicating to Watson that he indeed was not okay. 

The dog laid his front legs and chest across Bucky’s legs, the warm weight tethering him to the moment. 

Both veterans lost themselves in recalling what had happened last Memorial Day. They had tempted fate by joining Parker and his Aunt in Queens. The night had ended with a famous Pepper Pott’s press release, damages paid out of his own pension, and a night of seizures and flashbacks that no emergency meds dampened. 

His phone vibrated on the kitchen table. Thumbnails of the Barton kids in varying stages of baking appeared on the screen. 

“What do you think?” 

Bucky tensed, assuming he missed a conversational cue, he opened his mouth to respond when Steve’s book hit the table.   
The force of it caused Bucky to push his chair back, with Watson struggling to maintain the lap-up as his person moved. He wound up lifting the dog fully onto his lap. What looked more ridiculous he thought, a grown man freaking out at a paperback slamming against wood or a 70-pound poodle stuffed into his lap? 

“I’m fine.” Steve addressed the table, cracking his knuckles. 

Not fine. Bucky amended. Three veterans with varying degrees of trauma in a city with people as desperate for entertainment as a bunch of Marines on leave. What could go wrong?

“Happy Memorial Day!!” Tony shouted, dressed head to toe in red, white and blue. 

Sam buried his face in his hands, knocking a couple slices of watermelon onto the floor. “Stark, we talked about this.” 

“What?” He struggled to untangle the custom balloons. “This isn’t fireworks.” 

“Read the room Tony.” Steve tucked the book under his arm, snagged a plate of melon and took off for the balcony. 

“Who peed in his Cheerios?” Stark dropped the basket that held various patriotic decorations. Banner shuffled into the kitchen, on autopilot. 

Watson accidently punched Bucky in the gut on his way to gobble up the free snack. “Oof. He’s a vet too, man.” 

“Yeah, but I figured…” Tony began. 

“Remember the pamphlets?” Sam asked. 

“Yes!” Tony nodded. “No need to rehash all that jazz.” 

“He means thank you.” Bruce translated, tea bags seeping in near boiling water. “We had a whole conversation about respect and boundaries last night.” 

“Did we?” Tony blinked in confusion. 

“Yes. I also taped it, if you’d like to refresh your memory.” Banner glared at his longtime friend, while sucking down a Hulk-sized mug of tea. 

“That’s why I love you Brucie. You know me better than I know myself.” Tony offered a fist-bump, which Banner politely declined. “I’ll be back.” Stark continued in a highly offensive terminator adjacent accent. 

***

The morning passed with little fanfare. Steve tactfully avoided any and all conversation by continuing to devour the Hunger Games trilogy, which in Bucky’s opinion probably did not help his partner’s already sour mood. Sam tried to punch his way through his emotions in the gym, surprising Bucky by declining his invitation to stress-bake. 

With Watson licking the kitchen floor and trying in vain to eat the butter, Bucky managed to solo bake a tray of his now famous cookie bars. He remembered to pre-heat the oven and everything. 

The scent of chocolate finally lured Steve into the kitchen as he was drying the dishes. “Hey punk.” 

“Hey.” Steve echoed. 

“How’s your book?” Bucky pointed to the hardback with a dishcloth. 

“Finished.” Steve positioned himself in a stool at the counter. 

“Any good?” Bucky respected his partner’s need to bury himself in fiction, it was a hell of a lot healthier than his own coping mechanisms. 

Steve accepted a warm cookie. “Yeah, really good. It’s just a lot to process.” 

“Well you read like 300 pages in less than 6 hours.” Bucky teased. “You’ve got a hangover.” 

“What?” Steve quirked an eyebrow at his partner. 

“You know.” Bucky gesticulated with a clean spatula. “That feeling when there’s like too much that’s happened in a movie or TV series you’ve binged. You can’t process anything.”

He laughed. “That fits.” 

Bucky sorted the clean silverware. “Everything feels like that since we’ve been in this decade. We’ve had to download everything we’ve missed and stay current at the same time.” 

“No wonder we’re so screwed up Buck.” Steve swallowed a mouthful of cookie, chocolate drying on his fingers. 

“Yeah, but you’re the only jerk who’d put up with this.” He tapped his own chest, and Watson leapt barking. His tail wagging enthusiastically. 

Rogers laughed and pinched off a bit of cookie. “Same goes for me.” While Bucky found self-deprecating humor to be cathartic, Steve rarely joined. This called for drastic measures. 

“Wanna go for a run?” Bucky offered. 

Steve shook his head. “You don’t want to go for a run.” 

“No. But I’ll go for you.” 

Steve studied Bucky’s face before accepting the proposal. “Watson, should we take Daddy to the gym?” He spoke to the dog, whose whole body wriggled in anticipation. Watson’s head tilted as she looked between his parents. 

Bucky groaned dramatically. “At least there will be air conditioning in the gym.” 

“Be glad I’m not Nat, she’d make you spar.” With a quick kiss, Steve whistled as he made his way out of the Common Room. 

“What have I gotten myself into Watty-watts?” Bucky sighed, transferring the cooled cookies into a plastic container. He scrawled a quick note for the rest of the quarantined Avengers, letting them know the cookies were to be saved for after dinner.

“Okay, okay, I’m going.” He laughed as Watson herded him towards the elevator, woofing impatiently. 

***

Twilight arrived with a drop-in temperature. A beautiful sunset in the making. If the holiday itself was not so triggering, Steve would be able to capture the classic skyline. 

“Thanks for dinner.” Bruce carried a stack of containers to the fridge. “You guys outdid yourselves.”

Tony burped in appreciation. “I’ve got the heartburn to prove it.” He winced. 

“Here.” Pepper pressed a pair of chalky tablets into his palm. 

“You’re a lifesaver.” He winked at his wife. “Too bad these don’t taste as good as the candy.” 

Wilson paced in front of the sofa, murmuring into a phone. One of his friends from his Army days reached out, and Sam had spent the better part of the afternoon coordinating services and talking him down. 

Watson slept lightly under Bucky’s chair. His weight comfortably heavy on his feet, he felt marginally less likely to run. He did not want a repeat of last year. At least in the Tower, Bucky knew the surroundings and had access to a plethora of grounding techniques and self-soothe items. 

“G’night all.” Pepper waved and Bucky blinked. How much time had passed? He looked to Steve, who was picking at his beard, watching whatever movie Wanda had selected. 

“Fireworks?!” He begged. 

“On our TV at half your preferred volume.” 

He offered his hand. “Deal.” 

The doors closed, muffling the rest of the conversation between the couple. 

Sam sank into the couch. Watson peered at the man, briefly licking his elbow. “Thanks bud.” 

“Wilson, you good?” 

“Who’s to say.” He muttered. 

The trio sat in silence, lost in their own heads until a flash of light caught Sam’s attention. He drew a sharp breath and abruptly straightened his spine. 

Steve ran to the freezer, grabbing Wilson’s ice packs. Bucky shivered involuntarily, and Watson curled tighter in his lap. 

“Three-part breath?” Rogers attempted to guide his friend through grounding exercises. 

Wilson’s clutched an ice pack, the water beads moving around in the pouch. “Not working.” He grunted. 

“Okay. Temperature, sorry about this.” Steve apologized, pressing one of the frozen packs to Sam’s neck and another to his stomach. 

“Fuck, why does that work so well.” He cursed, indeed breathing more evenly. 

Another pinwheel blurred in the sky, followed by a thunderous explosion. Bucky’s hands clamped over his ears, blood pounding through his veins. Watson tackled him, front paws on either side of his neck. 

“Mmm.” He hummed, losing more of himself as the seconds ticked by. Bucky could not move, they were coming. Mission report. The smell of blood, it coated the back of his throat.   
A wet tongue lapped at his face. He pulled away from the source of the wet appendage. Dog? 

The weight on his shoulders, it was soft and warm. Not the chair, his brain flickered with recognition. Watson. 

“Buck.” 

His eyes snapped open, Steve’s mouth moved in front of him, but no sound. 

“Buck?” He repeated. 

Oh. His hands slid away from his ears. Confident that his ‘service human’ was able to take over, Watson licked Bucky’s eye and moved off of his lap. 

“Ew.” He whispered, throat raw. For reasons unknown, Watson always managed to locate the inside of his nose, ear or eye with his tongue. It was disgusting, but certainly sped up the grounding process. 

The Common Room was empty, save for the veterans. Sam nodded at him from an overstuffed armchair. “We made it dude.” 

“S’over?” He mumbled. 

Steve fumbled with a now tepid ice pack, moving the water beads compulsively. “Yeah Buck, we survived another year.” 

“Only the beginning of the season though. No one respects the PTSD.” He hugged the bowl of ice cream, looking utterly miserable. 

“Want some?” Steve asked. “We’ve got sprinkles.” 

“You mean jimmies?” Bucky corrected. 

“I’m not starting that argument again.” 

“That’s because you know I’m right pal.” 

“Convince me Rogers, you’re outnumbered at the moment.” Wilson added, scraping the spoon against his empty bowl. The conversation continued between them, the low-stakes of the current condiments debate buzzing around Barnes’ head. He felt no need to partake, but it was comforting and grounding all the same. 

Bucky pressed his forehead against Watson’s fur and inhaled the familiar scent of vanilla almond pet shampoo. “We’re okay pal.” He felt the dog’s heartbeat, strong and warm under his soft curls. “We’re okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> Just a reminder: most of the anecdotes about Watson are borrowed from my own experiences with being a part of a working service dog team. Watson is my partner is health and I love him dearly!


End file.
